


on this day that i was born, the world's gift to me is you

by wartransmission



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Post-Ep 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9052663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wartransmission/pseuds/wartransmission
Summary: “I didn’t make you breakfast just to let it go cold, Viktor,” Yuuri says, visibly embarrassed as he tries and succeeds in prying Viktor away from him.
  “I’d rather have you, though,” Viktor whines in complaint, the corners of his pouting lips trembling in an effort to not laugh as Yuuri sputters a reply. 
Or, a day in the life of Yuuri and Viktor in which Yuuri tries his best to give Viktor the best present he could ever receive on his birthday.





	

A soft, accented “ _доброе утро, Витенька_ _,_ ” greets Viktor’s ears the moment he  awakes, and all at once, a warm fullness spreads in the hollows of his bones and veins like the warm summer water of Hasetsu’s ocean. He is a morning person through and through, the habit infused into his blood and heart since he began skating, but the sight and sound and everything of Yuuri when he wakes will never fail to make his every morning something to look forward to.

“A morning with you?” he hums, turning on his side to give Yuuri, who is sitting clothed on the right side of his bed, a sleepy, affectionate smile. “In my bed, at that,” he adds, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s waist and squeezing with all the fondness he can muster. “It will always be a good morning.”

“You are especially cheesy in the early morning,” Yuuri notes, the teasing words belying the warmth in his voice.

“Only for you,” he sing-songs. Yuuri responds by gently ruffling his already-mussed hair, treating him as he would an excited Makkachin, to which he eagerly nuzzles his head into Yuuri’s hand in a none too quiet appeal for more affection. “But why are you up so early?” he asks, shooting a confused smile Yuuri’s way as he looks up at him. “You usually wake up later than me.”

“I made you breakfast,” Yuuri replies, not quite answering the question as he turns his head away as though to avoid his gaze. Yuuri’s free hand, the one not tangled in his hair, clenches nigh imperceptibly on his lap- a habit, something Yuuri has yet to erase whenever he feels particularly anxious or uneasy about something.

If this were months before, given the _event_ that occurred before the Free Skate half of the GPF in Barcelona, he would have felt nervous. Scared, even. The Yuuri of before tended to wear such habits whenever he was preparing to drop emotional bombs on his heart without prior warning.

The Yuuri of now, though…

He shares Viktor’s home, shares his bed, shares his breakfasts, lunches and dinners, shares his training time with Viktor and Yurio, shares his _life_ and _love_ with the Viktor of now with little to no shame and all the pride his heart could possibly hold, and he is in love and unwilling to let go.

This Yuuri left his homeland, left Hasetsu, to be with him in Russia.

This Yuuri still wears the golden ring tying them both together.

And so, Viktor chooses to believe in him.

This does not mean that is not curious, however. He would not be who he is as Viktor Nikiforov if he were capable of holding in all of his curiosities.

“That’s not an answer to my question, Yuuri,” he says, raising an eyebrow when Yuuri makes a short whine-like noise under his breath. “What is it?” he asks, pulling his arms away from Yuuri in favor of using them to push himself up to sit beside him. In an attempt at being supportive or comforting or whatever it is Yuuri needs from him, he scoots closer to re-wrap his arms around Yuuri’s lower back and says, “You can tell me.”

“You really don’t celebrate it, do you,” Yuuri says, the words falling from his mouth less as a question and more as a dry, wry-sounding statement. Yuuri brings an arm around his back to settle his hand on Viktor’s hip, and Viktor smiles brightly at the gesture of affection with all the strength of a thousand suns because he just can’t _help_ himself. Yuuri initiating any form of affection is worthy of a big, metaphorically blinding smile, he figures, and anyone who raises a complaint is well-deserving of a good dressing-down from him, Yurio, and anyone and everyone else who loves Yuuri.

“Celebrate what?” he asks, somewhat confused after getting lost momentarily in his thoughts. “Christmas?”

“Your birthday, Viktor,” Yuuri says, exasperation coloring his tone as he squeezes his arm around Viktor’s waist. “You remembered Christmas but forgot your own birthday?”

“I tend to forget things, or did you not understand that yet?” he retorts, leaning forward to nip at Yuuri’s ear, which gets him a yelp and a slap of a hand on his arm in return.

“Viktor!” Yuuri scolds, light flush painting his cheeks pink as he tries and fails to shove him away. “Don’t tease me.”

“Oh, but that’s half the fun,” he purrs, nuzzling close and pressing a kiss to the patch of skin behind Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri shivers as Viktor had expected him to- and _oh_ , he knows and has seen these reactions so often that he has Yuuri’s weak points memorized, but he is somehow _never_ tired of eliciting them. Yuuri goes pliant in his arms, subtle but definitely _there_ , and Viktor grins. He trails kisses down from Yuuri’s ear to his neck, nuzzling his nose into flushed skin every once in a while, and lets the warmth of Yuuri’s acceptance of him- his life and his love- fill him from up to his heart and down to his toes.

But, as is the pattern when it comes to Yuuri and his stubbornness, the sweet docility is only temporary and is immediately ended when Yuuri pushes him away with a hand to his face.

 _Rude_.

“I didn’t make you breakfast just to let it go cold, Viktor,” Yuuri says, visibly embarrassed as he tries and succeeds in prying Viktor away from him.

“I’d rather have you, though,” he whines in complaint, the corners of his pouting lips trembling in an effort to _not_ laugh as Yuuri sputters a reply. “You’re here, you’re in my bed- it’s unfair to keep yourself from me, isn’t it? It’s my birthday, too.”

“Breakfast first,” Yuuri says, standing up with a huff as he walks away from their bed. He is firm, undoubtedly sure of himself and of Viktor’s obedience as he walks towards the door without once looking back. Viktor sighs, but gives in; he knows better than to go against Yuuri when the man is only trying to do something nice for him for his birthday.

Then, just before Viktor can even so much as step foot off his bed as was requested (ordered?) of him, Yuuri says in a soft murmur,

“I’m already yours, anyway,”

before immediately scurrying off after, ears and nape red with embarrassment as he shuts the door behind him.

 _Oh, god_.

Viktor muffles a groan/squeal/any other sound of intense joy with both hands to his face as he lets himself fall back onto his bed.

He is so, so in love, and he is most definitely liable to having a heart attack at a young age from how absolutely sweet Yuuri can be at the most unexpected of times.

(Honestly, though?

He wouldn’t mind dying for this.)

 

* * *

  

Later on, when they’re done with breakfast, lunch, and dinner without Yuuri even so much as hinting at a gift, Viktor starts to assume that the food and dates are gifts in themselves. He has no complaint with this; having Yuuri at all, having Yuuri be in his life and wearing this golden ring that binds them together, is _more_ than enough for him.

Then Yuuri asks him to wait for him on their bed, makes his entrance from the bathroom to the bedroom by slowly stripping himself of his clothing in the most sensual manner possible, and crawls up to sit on Viktor’s lap- all while Viktor is left to quietly suffer a minor figurative heart attack at the overwhelming (and undeniably sexy) storm that is Katsuki Yuuri making his niche right in Viktor’s heart.

Yuuri says, “Since you’re the world’s gift to me, I thought I’d try to be a good gift for you,” and Viktor seriously, honestly, starts to wonder how anyone can be so adorable and seductive at the same time, because it is truly messing with his capacity to remain sane in Yuuri’s presence.

Yuuri seems to have no problem with this, as he only offers a cute, knowing smile at the sight of Viktor’s gawping expression.

 

He does not understand how he was so fortunate to have met, fallen in love, and gotten _engaged_ to such a beautiful, wonderful man, but he has no complaints whatsoever, and no plans to let him or this love go.

The earth would sooner shatter itself into pieces before Viktor would choose to let Yuuri go.

 

* * *

 

Much, much later, when the sun has already risen for another day and they are both out of bed to start preparing for training, is the time that other ( _absolutely great, marvelous, magnificent_ ) gifts arrive for him. They are late, sure, but their content?

It certainly makes up for the delay in their arrival.

One is a large box, shipped from Switzerland, with the other being a small envelope holding an address from Thailand.

The envelope reveals its contents as a USB and high quality pictures of Yuuri, unedited, back from when he was still training in Detroit with his good friend Phichit Chulanont. The pictures are, generally, nice and sweet: they contain Yuuri in his happier moments, with his smiling face and open-mouthed laughter and silly poses. Later, when he checks on the USB’s contents, he finds them to contain the same pictures, with small (and cute!) extras of Yuuri eating, Yuuri studying, and so on.

Then he opens Chris’s gift, and oh.

 _Oh_.

And here he’d thought he already had all that he wanted.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, voice shaky and bewildered as he stares at the contents of the box holding Christophe’s gift(s) to him. “What..?”

“Chris knows me so well,” is all he says in reply, his grin bright and wide on his face as he pulls out from the box a large, round plush toy resembling Yuuri’s usual appearance (blue-framed glasses, brown eyes, black hair and cute smile). Yuuri is staring still, confused and blinking quickly in succession as though it will reveal the answer to the puzzling ( _was it, really?_ ) sight of Viktor cuddling with a toy that was made to resemble him.

The gift of Yuuri (and all other forms of him) is all he can ever ask for and want, honestly, and to know that Chris understood this, and gifted him the toy (and other merchandise of his fiancé) accordingly, is good enough a reminder that Chris is _the_ best friend a man could ask for.

He grins, bright and joyful and overwhelmingly satisfied.

This is, without a doubt, his _best birthday ever._


End file.
